And Dust into Dust
by Reyuna Yukimura
Summary: Hatred only begets more hatred; wars don't always go the way one plans, and sacrifices have to be made to bring peace once more. Slight established Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Merlin/Morgana friendship. Character death, cept not really. AU-ish.


**Legend:** ||Blah|| - non-corporeal speak. It'll make sense later.

"Blah" - regular speech

**Notes:** This is like sort of AU/fantasy/whatever.

**Disclaimer:** Srsbeanz, I don't own this.

**Warnings:** my first attempt at **angst**, some slight OOC probably, bloodshed, character deaths (sort of, kind of-ish), unbetaed (like everything I write)

**Author's Notes:** Whoo! I think this may be the first fandom that has me gripped enough to keeping poppin out fics! Seriously, there is a third one on the way, a sequel to 'Like Breathing Underwater' for those that asked. And I may or may not have a fourth in the works, as well. I'm not really sure what to think of this situation...xD

**Some things to know before reading:** first things first, Morgana is NOT bad-guy/evil here. In fact, she and Arthur and Merlin are like BFFLS. Merlin and Arthur are together as a couple and Morgana and Arthur are like brother and sister. There are mentions of Avalon, which I don't remember if it's mentioned in the BBC series, but think of it as a heaven for magical folks. The basic premise is that Camelot is at war with magical folk and losing terribly. Arthur, Morgana and Merlin have to save it.

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><p>Camelot is losing the war, the one that they themselves have started in the name of purging the world of the 'evil.'<p>

The opposing side, comprised of renegade sorcerers and other magical folk, is absolutely devastating the land, killing live-stock and feed and leaving behind a death count that numbers far, _far_ too high. Men, women, boys, girls, _babies..._no one is safe, no one is innocent in their condemning eyes.

_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. _

They have suffered for too long, being slaughtered by the drove for having talents that could have been used for so much _good_. Now it is their turn, their revenge, their _retribution_. Now they will take and ravage and do all those things that Camelot was so afraid that they would do to begin with.

There is fire, famine, drought, and everything that human-kind can barely endure when each occurs separately; except now, it cannot be endured at all because it is happening _all at once_. Everything is dead, dead, _dead _and there is nothing to do be done for it but to try weather the storm, to try and save those who can be saved.

There aren't many.

_God_, it _hurts_. Arthur feels every death like a piece of himself is cruelly ripped out –_every single one_. And he feels every failure, every life lost, weigh down on him like boulders on his chest. It feels like he can't even _breathe _and he _wants to die_.

But he can't, not until Camelot is safe.

What makes the entire thing nearly unbearable though, is that it's all on the royal family's head, on his father's head. Arthur feels it acutely because his family is responsible for the downfall of the country that they're sworn to protect. The Pendragons have been brought low by their own hand and there is nothing Arthur can do to change that.

This is the result of rage and fear accumulated into and utilized by powerful hands that know naught but to destroy.

It is the result of Arthur's birth and Uther Pendragon's inability to take fault in the death of his own wife, and instead, unfairly placing with something else.

Arthur finds that he can't hate his father, though, not fully. Hell, he even finds himself sympathizing a little bit. If he thinks about it, if he puts himself in his father's shoes, he isn't sure what he would do if the love of his life were ever taken away from him. He doesn't know what he'd do if _Merlin_ were no longer there.

But, at the same, he also can't help but damn his father, just a little bit, because the man has single handedly brought about the death of Camelot. There is a small part of him that _spits_ on his father because god, the _children_, even the children aren't safe and Uther Pendragon isn't moved even the littlest bit. He refuses to call a cease-fire and he refuses to allow the opposite side their demands.

Worse still, the demands aren't even that great; they merely want freedom and the ability to live out in the open and without fear, as is their god-given _right_.

But Uther won't budge and _god_, there is _so much death_. It's too much. So, Arthur may not hate his father, may even love him still, but he can no longer respect him. He can no longer claim that his father is a righteous man in any sense.

It hurts.

Arthur sort of wants to scream, beg, plead – _anything_ – as long as this will end. He's even willing to sacrifice himself, if that's what it will take. "Take me," he wants to scream, "Spare them. Take me!" But he knows that it will only be in vain.

He knows this because he has already tried to offer himself up as a willing sacrifice, hoping that the deaths will stop. But, in the end, Arthur is just too miniscule, too unimportant. After all, what is one non-magical crown prince worth when the world is being over-run by furious magic? Arthur has no say, his worth is pretty much gone and when Camelot falls, he won't even be a prince any more.

For the first time in a very long while, Arthur feels human. He isn't a prince; he isn't the scion of Camelot but a mere man. And also for the first time, Arthur isn't glad for it.

Every twisted, shredded body he sees when he rides out is a person he can't save because he is _merely human_. Every parent who cries as their children are ripped away from them, every child that cries for their parents...

He can't...god, he just _can't_. No one should have to live with such a thing, not even the worst of people, and yet here they are.

_Pain. Suffering. So much SORROW._

For the first time in a long while, Arthur is scared, so very, very _frightened_. He is losing everything, and the fault doesn't even lie with him. His world is falling apart and there isn't a damned thing he can do. There is no control and no way of ending this thing when his father is so hell-bent on not letting that happen as long as there is a magical soul alive.

Sadness rules him, as does fury and fear and a million and one other negative things. It's like there is no happiness left anywhere. The only people that can make Arthur smile even the littlest bit, are Merlin and Morgana and god, Arthur can only do his damndest to protect those two.

If no one else, Arthur promises himself, those two will live. Even if he ends up dying in the process, gets maimed, bleed, cries or gets broken beyond recognition, Merlin and Morgana will _stay alive_. The two people who are the center of his universe will continue forth and relearn to smile and be happy and live to be gray. That's all Arthur wants.

And so, it goes on.

Arthur tries his best to help those that he can, bringing everyone that's left into the castle and what little protection it offers. But there's not much else he can do. He's too busy with trying to find a way to end this, trying to convince his father to _stop _and then, when he fails with his father, trying to plan out tactic after tactic that ends in a win-win situation.

But they are still losing and the odds are insanely high that they will lose altogether. In fact, the chances are infinitely higher that Camelot will be defeated and everyone will die, as opposed to winning. But dwelling on that is folly so Arthur keeps himself busy, trying to find a way out.

In fact, he is so busy that he barely notices when even Merlin and Morgana start to act odd.

He barely notices when Merlin, his best friend and the love of his life, clings to him desperately, treating every kiss like it will be their last, every touch like there might not be any more. He barely notices when Morgana, his other best friend and sister-by-all-but-blood, starts to shower him with more affection than she would normally, like she knows that if she doesn't, she'll regret it later on.

He, rightfully, attributes the changes to the war.

He comforts them when he can, trying to make them smile and generally making sure that they feel like the beloved people that they are. He tries to keep them filled with hope and tries to keep them away from the worst of it.

They try to do the same for him.

He thinks it's working, all things considered.

Except...it's not.

He doesn't realize that something is _wrong_, until he walks into the Great Hall on the tenth hopeless day of war and bloodshed, ready to make more strategies that will hopefully spare lives instead of destroying it.

When he walks in, he's walking behind Uther and in step with his advisers, engrossed in strategizing. Things are normal. And then, he's walking into his father because Uther has come to an abrupt stop, his mouth wide open and a mixture of _fear, shock, guilt_ on his face.

It doesn't take Arthur long to realize why.

In the middle of the hall are Merlin and Morgana, their wrists bleeding heavily as they stand in a runic circle painted into the floor. The symbols are meshing and blending together with their clothes until Arthur can't tell where the symbols end and Merlin and Morgana begin.

Everything is painted crimson, _so much blood, _and Arthur can only watch, shock and no small amount of fear painting his features as he feels his universe slowly unraveling.

He is paralyzed, skin ashen and heart racing a million miles an hour and every other beat is clamoring for Merlin and Morgana, Merlin and Morgana. His mind is screaming at him, shouting, trying to make sense of a situation that shouldn't be, that should never have been. Why are they doing this, his soul cries, what went wrong?

His panic only rises when, as though hearing his thoughts, both Merlin and Morgana turn to him, pale and wan and god there is _so much blood_, and yet they are still smiling.

Morgana is the first to speak, her voice soft and weak, "Arthur..."

And Arthur _breaks_. He shatters into a million little pieces and there is no hope of his ever being pieced back together because he knows, instinctively, that the only two who could ever hope to act as the glue are going away.

"Why?" he rasps, unable to get a full breath into his lungs, "_Why?_"

This time, it's Merlin who speaks, "Because it is the only way..."

It isn't until they slowly raise their hands, blades poised to sink into their chest, that Arthur is able to leap into action. But there's some kind of invisible shield that seems to encompass the blood-circle and Arthur _can't get through_.

_No, no, no, no..._

He still throws himself against it, again and again, the only words coming out of his mouth are pleas, orders, anything that will stop them from doing this.

_Please no. No. No. No. Please, ANYONE but them!_

But it's too late. _Too late, too late, TOO LATE._

They both smile at him and tell him they love him, more than anything else in the world. And Arthur doesn't have to the time to say something back, to beg them to stop or to bitterly ask, _'If you love me so much, why are you doing this?' _Because the second they tell him they love him, they drive the blades in their hands right into their hearts, arching symmetrically.

Then, there is only light.

The shield that Arthur has been throwing himself against seems expand and explode out into light, and the entire room is suddenly aglow with pure, raw _energy_.

It's is hazy and beautiful, forming patterns and swirls like a breeze on a warm summer day, and the mortals present can only languish in its wake. It's gorgeous and warm. It feels a lot like reassurance and hope and nearly ever person in the room, even the full grown men, feel tears pouring down their face as their weary souls are soothed by the known force.

It's magic, Arthur realizes with a start, pure and beautiful and strange, yet so, _so_ familiar. He feels himself being surrounded by it, feels like he's home and loved. It tugs at his soul and causes his heart to _sing_.

As though responding to him, the magic almost seems to laugh, gently cradling him as though it loves him more than it loves anything else in the world.

It makes Arthur feel the way Merlin makes him feel when he kisses Arthur, when he hugs him, when he tells him that he loves him: all cherished and warm; contentment and happiness. It makes Arthur feel the way Morgana makes him feel when she teases him, when she jumps on him from behind, when she's tucking him into bed because he's exhausted and Merlin is off finishing his duties: beloved, adored, and worth so, so much.

That's when it hits Arthur, it _is _them. The magic that feels so familiar and loving... it _is_ Merlin and Morgana. And suddenly, all the pieces fall into place.

"I love you," he whispers, his eyes closed and his voice rough with unshed tears and loneliness; _'please don't do this,' _he wants to scream_,_but all he can do is pour out his heart. He knows what they ask of him; he knows what they need him to do.

They want him to get away, so he doesn't get hurt.

He does the opposite.

Without any warning, the magic uses him as a sort of converter, and absolutely _explodes_ out. It branches out of the room, and then out of the castle itself, taking on the form of ivy and vines, touching everything and everyone in its wake.

Arthur can feel it running though him, using him as the conduit and he feels something in him being slowly unraveled, something in him coming free. He smiles.

Everything that the magic comes into contact with absolutely _glows, _life and energy oozing out of every pore, every crevice, every _atom_ of being. And where there was only death and pain and destruction, there is suddenly _life_.

Arthur doesn't need to look outside to know exactly what is happening. He can feel it in his bones, in his blood, in his _soul_. He can _feel_ everything bursting into shards of _light _and reforming.

All the land that's been barren and burned is suddenly bursting into bloom and greenery and joy and color. Those who lay wounded and dying are suddenly restored, their bodies intact. The equilibrium is being reset so that it's like the past ten nightmarish days never occurred.

The opposing forces, the people who had laid waste to Camelot and had taken lives so unrelentingly suddenly are suddenly finding themselves powerless, their magic ripped out of their very _being_ and used to fuel this...this..._miracle_.

A single wave of pure, humming _energy_ passes through all of Camelot, restoring everything, before receding back into the castle once more, back into the circle from whence it came.

The people can only weep in joy and relief, not the least of whom are those present in the Great Hall in the castle. But Arthur...Arthur can't. He feels that he's lost what's most important to him so that Camelot can have back what's most important to her. It's a bittersweet feeling.

He knows that it's selfish; the need of the many should outweigh the need of a few. It's basic politics, taught to those of royal birth since before they can even speak. It's common sense and damage control at its finest.

Arthur doesn't care.

He wants his lover and sister back; he wants his best friends _back, _Camelot be damned.

He refuses to open his eyes because he's afraid of what he'll see when he does; he's afraid that he will see them in the middle of that thrice-damned circle, mere husks of what they used to be. He's not sure he can handle that, in fact, he's positive that he can't.

But that remnant of magic that's left in him is nudging at him, prodding him internally and trying to make him see. Arthur wants to tell it to piss off, that he has no desire to do anything other than to fucking _die. _But the thing inside of him is so goddamned _insistent_...

No, Arthur thinks furiously, I will not!

He knows he's being childish, he knows that the two of them being alive does not hinge on his keeping his eyes closed. He knows he's being irrational.

But he still refuses.

Then, he hears a tsk, sort of like the one Morgana makes when she thinks he's being particularly bratty and something grazes the back of his head, exactly where _she_ usually smacks him across the head, and Arthur is flinching back, a furious, tearful recrimination at the tip of his tongue. Fuck off, he wants to say to her, you're gone, you left me.

And then he hears a sigh, sort of like the one Merlin makes when he's exasperated and has had it up to here with Arthur's antics, and Arthur can't help the tears that roll down his face.

"I hate you both..." he whispers, even as he thinks 'I love you, god I _love _you.' No sound comes out of his mouth but the sentiment is there, and he slowly opens his eyes.

He expects to see broken corpses on the floor, surrounded by blood and burnt flesh.

Instead he sees Merlin and Morgana, standing in the middle of the hall, looking like they always have. There are no gaping wounds in their chests, no slashes running across their wrists and for all intents and purposes, there is nothing wrong with them.

But they're hazy, like they have no actual substance to them, like they're merely ghosts.

||Prat,|| Ghost-Merlin is mouthing out and he's not saying it out loud; but Arthur hears it in his head. Ghost-Morgana smirks and mouths, ||Drama-Queen...||

And Arthur can't help but laugh, almost helplessly, soundlessly and even through the sadness, as familiarity settles in.

Things would be back to normal but for one thing.

They're fading, becoming more and more hazy as time goes by. It's frightening.

Wait, Arthur wants to cry out, where are you going? But he can't seem to open his mouth and _speak; _sound refuses to come out of his mouth.

But then, it's like he doesn't have to. The other two seem to understand without his having to say a thing.

||Avalon,|| they both mouth out simultaneously, their voices chorusing in Arthur's head and for the third or fourth time in less than a few hours, Arthur feels himself _shatter_.

He closes his eyes again, against the world and the place he can no longer associate with home because it took away his reasons for being.

He's about to shut down completely, when Morgana tsks again and suddenly Arthur's eyes are closed even tighter, fury pouring out of him along with the tears.

He tries to open his mouth to shout and scream, tell her to shut the fuck up because _she's _leaving_ him _and not the other way around, but he still can't seem to make a sound. So he settles for thinking it at her, as loudly as he can. She merely giggles at him and, despite everything, he still feels some small amount of happiness with making her laugh.

||Arthur||," he hears and this time it's Merlin, ||Arthur, open your eyes.||

You promised to never leave me, Arthur retaliates bitterly, thinking towards his lover as he did so.

There's another gusty sigh, ||Arthur, for gods sakes, just open your eyes!||

When Merlin uses that voice, Arthur can't help but listen, so he opens his eyes. But as he looks at them, he looks miserable. What's the point in being alive when the only two people who matter are dead? What's the point in his existence?

He bristles slightly as Morgana's laughter chimes in his head again, but before he could rip her a new one, Merlin is clearing his throat.

"What?" Arthur thinks at him, eyes narrowed.

Merlin's only response is to pointedly look down at Arthur's hand.

Oh, is all Arthur can say when he looks down too, only to find himself fading, just like they are.

||'Oh' indeed,|| Merlin snickers in his head, before saying in a much more gentle voice, ||We didn't want to leave you behind you know. We had no choice.||

Morgana grins, ||Yeah. But hey, intentional or not, you're coming with us. You drama queen.||

And Arthur sort of wants to scream at them some more for almost leaving him behind, but suddenly, he feels joy filling him, although how that works in his less than corporeal form, he doesn't know. He jumps into action, running towards the circle, towards Merlin and Morgana, one more time. This time, there is no resistance, the shield doesn't deter him.

With a giddy laugh, he flings himself at them and even though he should technically fall _through_ them, he doesn't. They still feel warm and comfortable, like they always did, like they always do.

Arthur laughs once more, kissing Merlin deeply and then picking Morgana up and twirling her around just to hear her screech at him to _put her down, dammit_. He doesn't think anything could destroy his happiness at this moment.

Then, he hears his father's voice.

"What have I done?"

The once proud man's voice is raspy, heart-break coloring every word, "This cannot be happening."

And Arthur wants to turn around and punch the man in the face, maybe spit on him like he's been wanting to. But, he still loves his father too much even though he's done some terrible things.

So he turns around and just _looks_ at his father.

Uther is crying by this point, tears rolling down his face as he watches his son and his foster daughter fade out.

"Please," he cries out, "Don't go."

At that, Arthur sort of wants to snarl, snap at his father that he should have thought of that before he destroyed everything. But surprisingly, Morgana lays a staying hand on him, pulling him back before he does something drastic.

||I am sorry...|| she mouths at his father, ||We don't have a choice.|| She actually looks sad, like she means it and oddly enough, that's when it hits Arthur that Uther _can't hear them_. Somehow, it grounds him to realize that.

He suddenly feels a lot more empathetic towards his father, who won't even be able to hear them speak one last time.

Arthur was there mere minutes ago, when he thought he'd lost the people who mattered to him the most. He can't let his father go through that, no matter what he's done.

Arthur waves his hand slightly, getting Uther's attention and as hopeful eyes turn to him, he can only offer a sad smile, ||I love you, father...|| he mouths out, and he's surprised to find that he completely means it.

His father lunges forward, hitting the shield that seems to be in place around the circle the three of them are standing in. "No," he keeps screaming, "No, no, NO!"

Again, Arthur feels vindictive and sort of wants to say, I told you so, to rub it into his fathers face that this entire thing could've bee avoided if he'd _listened_ to Arthur. But he's stopped again, this time by Merlin.

His lover merely shakes his head at him, non-verbally warning him to not do anything rash. _Don't break his heart any more than you have to_, those blue eyes seem to say.

So, instead of lashing out, he looks his father in the eye and tells him to take care of Camelot. He tells his father to never do something like this again because the consequences will be unbearable. Because if there is a next time, he says, there will be no miracle to save everyone.

Arthur then closes his eyes to blink, and he fades out completely.

When he opens his eyes a fraction of a second later, he's in the middle of a field, surrounded by trees and peace and quiet and noise and mischief and warmth and everything that he's missed in the last ten days. Merlin is standing right next to him and Morgana is leaning against a tree some scant inches away.

"Well that was abrupt..." he mutters as he looks around with curiosity, feeling sort of happy that the three of them are _together_, "So, Avalon...huh?".

The other two exchange fond glances before looking back at him.

"Avalon," they confirm.

Arthur smiles.

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><p><strong>Author's Endnotes:<strong> SO, what'd ya think? I don't, I may have rushed it a little. :/ it's very late here right now...although it probably won't be when I put it up later in the day~ Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! **Read and Review**~ and please, **no flames.**


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